Merlin and Emrys
by Aleithria
Summary: The five times Merlin's Amulet came off, and the one time it didn't. Sequel to "The Fox's Net". BAMF!Merlin, and a touch of Merthian
1. The Test

Hello, my lovelies!

So, this is a little later than I would have liked it, but I managed to get it done. The conclusion of my insane work schedule has come and I work regular hours, but I still seem to have trouble getting stuff done in the evenings... writing included. But oh well!

This is a story that I am going to try and update once a week, but if you are a regular reader, you probably know that you probably shouldn't hold your breath. XD October is gonna be a crazy busy month for me, but hopefully I can get some daily writing in there. If only my brain could write without the use of my hands. I'd have finished 30 stories by now if I could just actually write the novels out in my head at work, cause writing is what I think about 90% of the time there. As a result, all six chapters of this story are planned out, I just gotta sit down and actually write them. XD

Anyway, if you have not read my story, "The Fox's Net", you might be a little confused. This has a bit of a recap, so you might be able to read this without previous knowledge, but this story is a direct continuation of that one.

Hope you enjoy!

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Many people in the five kingdoms would be surprised to know that the rumor-mill in Camelot was incredibly tame; at least when it came to the affairs of the ruling families. After a battle or during a scandal, residents of Kent or Nemeth could reliably walk into any tavern or brothel they chose and be told sixteen different versions of events. In the lower towns and commonplaces of Camelot, where royalty was spoken of in hushed awe and citizens were given little to complain about, rumors tended to concern neighbors and market competitors rather than nobles and kings. Up in the brothels and inns and taverns of the nobles and knights, tongues would wag more freely, but since the scandal of Arthur's courtship and marriage to a serving girl, there was little to talk about.

Until the siege.

In the months that followed that night of terror, Camelot's rumor-mill had become like any other kingdom's. Gossip was kept in every building that could house a group of people, and if an outsider were to ask what exactly happened on that chaotic night, they likely would have no earthly idea once everyone had given their stories. 'The army flooded the gates with the dead magicked to life at their sides,' would one say. 'Oh no,' would say another, 'they were druids! Menacing with their hoods and tattoos.' 'They were beasts that took the forms of men, with the strength to lift horses above their heads!' 'They called to the sky and a dragon descended to destroy us!' They would speak of flames and gods that lifted the earth to do their bidding, but none could point directly at the damage any such things had caused. The lower towns were left looted and burning, but where was the sign that a dragon had descended from on high or that anything had happened that an invading army could not do with their hands?

But the king! He was another story! For a great many days, the citizens of the city had clamored around the tale of Arthur appearing in a flash of divine light, holding toward the sky a regal sword with a great glowing red gem at its hilt. It was all illusion, assured the nobles, and even the king himself- only a glamour cast by the enemy to ensure panic and fear. More than once, he had shown them the sword he ever carried at his side, turning it over in his hands and showing them that no such gem existed. But surely, the knights at the citadel's entrance saw such things and would back up the claims of those who caught a glimpse of them through the windows of the guest chambers.

But no knights would come forward and tell such tales. Conspiracies began circling. What if the knights who had seen all that happened that night had been taken away- locked up or even killed to ensure their silence? But no knight was unaccounted for. Despite the size and chaos of the siege, very little life had been lost that day, and no death was deemed unusual, either by family or decree.

Morgana, the traitorous witch was behind all, they were assured. Such illusions and glamours were tricks used to spread terror and panic. All were the ways of magic users, after all. Citizens of Camelot knew well the horrors of magic.

But the council seemed to suspect more. Not that they said so, nor even used the suddenly lively rumor-mill to suggest so. Arthur wondered if it was because they feared repercussions or if they simply didn't know to tap such a tool, but he imagined it might have been easier to deal with if they did. Outright accusations would've been easier to deal with than these suspicious looks and constant questioning. They repeatedly demanded the same details over and over again, as though attempting to catch him in some falsity. They questioned his lack of action since. They even brought up the bizarre rumors that had spread through the lower towns.

Even as crazy as things had been that night, the rumors were crazier still.

But the months carried on. By the time Winter had melted into Spring in the Five Kingdoms, Arthur mused to himself that the council had become quite tight-lipped on the subject. He sincerely hoped it was because they figured they finally had the whole story and there was simply nothing left to wring out of the king, but he worried more it was because they had begun to come to their own decisions on what to do about their situation.

Little had been said about the maelstrom of a storm that had hammered Camelot three months after the siege, and Arthur considered that a blessing. There were bound to be conspiracy theories as to the use of magic within the city walls, but the utter lack of anything interesting happening afterwards quelled most suspicions. 'Such events,' people said, 'signify a great change by the gods. Magic within Camelot- a great shift in our way of life is surely to follow.' And yet there was none. Life settled back to normal. There were no more dragons, or flashes of light or even mentions of magic in the castle. Tongues still wagged, but it had resumed the docile level that was characteristic of Camelot.

However close they had come to being exposed, Arthur was impressed at how well they had all managed things. Proud, certainly not. He had deceived his entire kingdom, and to prevent further scandal, even if things changed the way he wanted them to, he would never let the city learn the truth of what had happened that night. And yet, uncomfortable as he was with deceiving both his people and his council, the king couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Merlin was still at his side, serving him as always. As long as the city never discovered how the siege had truly been prevented, nothing about that needed change. Thus, the knights who bore witness to his appearance on the steps of the citadel had minds changed with a spell Arthur could not grasp, no matter how many times Merlin explained it to him. Cobblestones and cracked masonry had been made whole to erase any proof of Kilgharrah's dramatic landing, and the stone-encased suits of armor brought to life by Morgana's spell had been freed and the floors and walls that had caved in repaired. It had been work Merlin had done surprisingly well prior to his trip to the lake, even bleeding off a large portion of his magic to regrow the burnt crops of his farmers outside the city. Despite everything, the heart of Camelot had hardly missed a beat.

Arthur knew well how his city would react to his sudden acceptance of magic. As deluded and mad Morgana was with both evil and hate, she had made a good point. His father's hatred of magic had infected more than just his soldiers and knights. The council was made up almost entirely of like-minded men and the city viewed magic as aberrant and shameful. If he was to turn his city toward acceptance, he would need more than a single warlock that fought for them, powerful though he may be. He would need allies, and he would need to watch the council as closely as they now watched him. Too many opposing council members banded together could spell a coup for the prosperous kingdom, and Arthur was more than determined to prevent losing all he had built and repaired since his father's death.

Winter was beginning to fade into spring when Arthur finally decided it was time to start addressing the issue of his council. The rumors had died down, and he had heard back from several discreet missives sent using birds Merlin conjured. But as he planned for trips to Nemeth and Caerleon, he knew one thing needed done first. He had called a meeting of his closest knights- which now included Bedivere- and Merlin and one cool spring evening, took them on what was touted as a hunting trip North of the city. North they began, but once Camelot's towers were well-hidden by the trees, they bent their horses Southeast. By the time they reached their destination, the moon was high in the sky and each knight hefted a large torch in their hands.

The Darkling wood had never seemed so sinister. Daily was it full of Camelot's folk: hunting, gathering, playing, and working. There were some that would attribute the wood's close proximity to the city as the prime reason for its prosperity. It teemed with life both flora and fauna, and its thick trees and rough trails sheltered it from greedy outside eyes. Nearly impossible for outsiders to navigate anywhere but its primary Northern trails, the locals knew the area as well as their own streets and more than once such knowledge had saved their lives. The people of Camelot could flee the city and vanish into the woods where no invaders could find them. But tonight, the trees seemed looming and oppressive giants. Every snap of a twig was a potential spy instead of an animal.

The group dismounted and tied their horses near a stream where the animals lapped gratefully at the cool water. It took them no more than ten minutes of hiking to reach the only place Arthur could think of to perform such a thing. They entered through a sharp valley with walls reaching higher than two men on either side. The narrow passage lead into a depression deep in the earth surrounded by sheer walls of rock. It was a place familiar to the knights of Camelot, perfect for trapping enemies and prey alike. Only the narrow valley to the Southeast provided escape or entrance and it was here that Bedivere was stationed as a lookout. He nodded gravely, and stabbed his torch into the earth at his feet and set his keen green eyes to scanning the area.

The other torches were placed along the edges of the cup of earth they stood in. Using the extra torches they brought along and a few makeshift ones, they managed to light the area fairly well. Merlin looked decidedly uncomfortable as the knights slowly took up positions around himself and his king.

"You're sure of this?" said Merlin. His eyes traveled past the king to look at Gwaine.

Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "Not entirely, but you agreed. You said we needed to see for ourselves so we aren't caught unawares if something happens."

Merlin glanced down at the palm- sized amulet which he caught up in his hand. A flawless blue gem sat at the center surrounded by thin curls of silver that had been masterfully intertwined to form a subtly elegant design. The leather chord that suspended it around his neck had worn a string of thin callouses across the back of his neck.

With his free hand, Merlin twirled an index finger up toward the tree canopy. "I did say that, and we do. I was asking about here." He shrugged. "I had thought we could use the North wing like before. You know... something with a door we can lock."

Arthur rolled his eyes and gave his blond head a shake. "Yes, Merlin. Lets test your unknown abilities _inside_ the castle in the heart of the kingdom that lead the Purge." He did little to hide his sarcasm. "I didn't want you to do it then, either. That was one of Gwaine's ideas." He jabbed his thumb at the roguish knight who promptly gave his hair a toss and flashed the manservant a rakish smile.

"You let me do it, though," muttered Merlin.

He was almost surprised Arthur heard him. "Yes, I let you show us your magic... not that I could have stopped you- you brought a whirlwind in the window." The king let his voice drop for a moment before speaking up again. "But even if I had known ahead of time that Gwaine would suggest it, I could not have expected you to be capable of such things. And, I trusted you not to do anything that would expose you. I don't even know how you managed not to alert anyone, shaking the earth like you did."

"Only the room shook," argued Merlin with a twist to his lip.

"Oh, well that's far less impressive, then." Arthur flipped a hand at the warlock.

It was Merlin's turn to scoff and roll his eyes. "So you don't trust me now?"

"Merlin, the last time you had access to this kind of power, you summoned a maelstrom... in your sleep." Arthur's tone softened a little. He poked the amulet's blue gem. "You have no control without this."

Merlin glanced down to the amulet again. He turned it over and heaved a sigh. "Hopefully I won't need it long. Bathing while keeping the leather dry is a chore."

Arthur held up a hand. "Inform me any more of your bathing routine, and you'll regret it," he said. "I'm not above throwing you in the stocks for old time's sake."

The knights around the circle joined the warlock in a small smile and chuckle and the tension in the bowl of earth relented a little.

"You ready?" Arthur's voice suddenly went solemn. The concerned look in his eyes and his large hands upon his shoulders was all entirely too sincere for Merlin's taste.

The servant took a cleansing breath and sighed it out. "You recall your promise?" he asked suddenly. "If this puts me back into the state prior to the trip to the lake, I get a day off?"

Arthur already had the amulet in his hand, and he stopped. "I recall. Though what I do not recall is how you managed to talk me into that. I'm not sure this is worth suffering through George's care taking for an entire day."

Merlin blinked and then stared him dead in the eyes. "You can't tell, Sire, but deep inside, I am positively distressed about the idea."

Gwaine snickered, and even Arthur couldn't help but smile. "Shut up, Merlin." He took hold of the leather strap at the back of the servant's neck. "Are you ready?" he asked again.

Merlin took another deep breath and nodded, bracing himself for the war that was about to erupt beneath his skin. There were no structures to knock down, and hopefully nothing with which to harm the allies that stood around him, but he found himself hoping, more than anything, that the following headache would be brief. Arthur met the eyes of each of his knights in turn and then slid the amulet's chord over Merlin's head.

Excalibur pulsed at his hip. Merlin's head fell forward like a marionette's whose string had been cut, his chin resting on his chest. The air around the group grew thick. The wind picked up and the trees whispered to one another. Arthur's stomach turned over and a shiver raced down his back. A blanket of invisible blades descended upon them and Arthur felt his knights tense violently. Leon's sword rung against its sheathe as he drew it, and Elyan's followed it. Slowly, each knight bared their weapons, more for comfort than any real need for them. Even Bedivere's blade glinted in the flickering light of his torch as he felt the tension of the group behind him. Arthur could hear his knights shifting uneasily in the bed of dead leaves under their feet.

Even Gwaine, close as he was to Merlin, nervously adjusted and readjusted his grip on his sword. "This... this doesn't feel like Merlin's magic," he mused quietly, a wary smirk playing at his mouth.

Arthur gave a tiny wave of his free hand. "Trust me. It is. It felt this way at the tower." He could easily tell this brought the group no comfort. He narrowed his eyes and chewed his lip. Merlin stood still as a statue. The king took a step forward and bent at the waist a little in an attempt to see the servant's down-turned face. "Merlin?"

"Arthur." The response was breathy and quiet. Still, he remained motionless.

Arthur craned his neck further. "How do you feel?" the king continued.

The air was suddenly unbearably warm, banishing the cool night. The magic around them bubbled like a boiling cauldron. The bladed shroud that encompassed them sent bursts of sensation down their limbs intense enough that the king heard the knights swat a few times at their own flesh as though slapping at bugs.

"I feel..." Merlin's voice dropped in pitch. It no longer seemed to come only from his mouth, but was accompanied by whispers that breathed directly into Arthur's ears. Behind him, Gwaine spun in place, glanced around, and then slowly turned back to look at his friend.

Merlin gasped, a dry hissing sound and his head snapped back as though someone had taken a handful of his hair and yanked on it. Arthur suddenly got the impression that he was being gently cooked in this bowl of earth. Merlin's head came slowly level as he sighed his gasp back out. The air stilled. The uncomfortable shroud seemed to calm, though the tiny pricks of power remained pressed gently against their flesh- threatening cuts that would not bleed. When Merlin at last opened his eyes, Arthur had to catch his breath.

Merlin's irises and pupils had vanished. What stared back at the king were liquid planes of pure white. Was it the light of the torches or his own magic that made his eyes glow? Black marks like ink swept out of his hair and scrawled down both temples. The design was looping and elegant as it meandered past his large ears and faded at his jaw. His mouth had settled into a thin line and all emotion had been purged from his face.

Arthur didn't realize he had taken a few steps back until he had to re-approach his servant. "Merlin?" Arthur said again, louder. White orbs shifted in their sockets, but he didn't seem to be acknowledging his king. Instead, his empty gaze had settled on Leon, who had sunk into a defensive stance. His blue eyes were transfixed on the warlock in the same way one might eye a predator.

"Sire, I don't like this," grumbled the Captain.

"You will step away from my king."

The deep voice echoed unnaturally around the cliffs and whispered at their ears. Even Bedivere spun in place to look for the voice that had so eerily breathed in his ear. Arthur's feet reflexively took him back a few steps. Merlin's eyes shifted to Leon's left and eyed the blade in Percival's hands.

"Merlin, it's us," said Gwaine, taking a step forward.

Merlin's head snapped to the side and his white eyes froze Gwaine where he stood. "You will surrender," Merlin said, all emotion gone from his voice. It was neither command, nor request. It was a statement- merely informing them of what was to happen.

"Merlin... it's us, mate," said Gwaine, his mouth clinging desperately to his half-grin, as though it alone could return Merlin's senses to him. He seemed to gather his wits again and took a small step toward the warlock. "Don't you know- !"

Gwaine yelped. His sword wrenched itself free of his hand. He cradled the offended extremity against his stomach as an unpleasant grinding sound echoed off the stone walls of their earthen basin. Arthur spun to see the blade of Gwaine's sword bury itself to the hilt in the rock wall.

The king spun and threw up his hands. "Merlin! What are you doing?"

If the servant heard him, he showed no sign. "Down!" he barked at the disarmed knight. The command was accompanied by an oppressive wave of magic that weakened the legs of all who had gathered around the sorcerer. There was no physical push, nor pressure to compel them to drop to their knees, only the overwhelming urge to drop away from the angry magical shroud. The amount of bewilderment in Gwaine's eyes did nothing to alter the lifelessness in Merlin's.

Beside him, Arthur could hear Leon shifting closer. The Captain seemed to bring with him his own heavy aura of tension. "Sire... I don't like this," he grumbled.

"Nor I," agreed Arthur. "He's not himself."

"Down," said Merlin again, his white eyes locked on Gwaine's. The knight only stared back with a little shrug of his shoulders and wave of his hands, as though requesting an explanation. He received none, and with a sudden cry, Gwaine found himself flat on his belly, the wind driven from his lungs.

In the stunned silence, Arthur could hear the leather of Leon's gloves grind against the grip of his sword. "Sire, I don't think- AH!" Merlin's head snapped to face the Captain, and the blade in his hand suddenly tore itself away and shot over his shoulder. The noise that followed left no doubt in Arthur's mind that the weapon had joined Gwaine's. Before he could blink, Leon's hand had fallen to his side and produced a small knife, which he now brandished at the warlock that was not Merlin. The servant's white eyes locked anew on the weapon, and his brows drew to a point.

"Wasn't that what the woman said?" said Gwaine through a cough, his voice muffled by the leaves that crowded his face. "She said that Merlin and Emrys would one day be one and the same again."

Arthur's blue eyes widened in realization. "He doesn't know friend from foe." His gaze finally left his manservant and leaped between each of his armed knights. "Your swords! Put them on the ground."

Leon suddenly yelled into the night air and his small knife hit the ground at his feet. The handle glowed a faint red as though a blacksmith had set it to his fire. He glared defiantly back at the warlock, whose gaze had somehow turned hostile.

"Down!" he ordered. Leon growled under his breath, but with a glance at Gwaine, and a tiny nod from Arthur, he lowered himself to the ground and mimicked Gwaine's prone position.

Elyan and Percival exchanged a glance, and beyond them, Arthur could see Bedivere mimic their hesitation. They both tensed as Merlin now spun to face them. Behind the warlock, Arthur mimed disarming himself.

"He doesn't know us?" asked Percival quietly, his sword drooping from its ready stance.

Arthur shook his head. "Freya said he doesn't know friend from foe. You're standing around me, weapons drawn. He must think you're threatening me."

Elyan's arms relaxed a little. "Does he not remember coming here with us?" He asked, stealing glances at the blonde king. Beyond the two armed knights, Arthur could see Bedivere suddenly abandon his sword. For a brief moment, the royal felt a pang of sympathy for the young knight. He was the most recent to be let into the King's inner circle of knights and with that station came the knowledge of his all-powerful servant. The young man had initially reacted well to the information, but Arthur could tell he had not been in any way prepared to so fear the skinny servant.

"It doesn't appear that he does," growled Arthur, fixing his gaze once more on the back of Merlin's head.

"You will surrender," said Merlin.

With another exchanged glance, Elyan and Percival nodded slightly. They each held their blades out to the side and slowly dropped to their knees. As they placed the swords on the bed of leaves at their sides, they prostrated themselves against the earth.

More grinding echoed off the walls, as Elyan's, Percival's, and even Bedivere's swords buried themselves in stone. Merlin's eyes shifted slightly, and Arthur could see Bedivere flinch, Merlin had no need to speak again, for the young knight quickly followed the examples of his seniors.

At last, Merlin turned to face the king, the hostile tautness of his face relaxed. The king glared at him. "You aren't Merlin. Not completely. Who are you?"

As Arthur spoke, the warlock took a knee, and bowed his head to the sovereign. "I am Emrys, my King."

His grip on the leather chord of the amulet tightened, but he forced calm on himself. "You have no cause to treat my knights so!" he said in his most authoritative tone.

Emrys seemed unbothered by the scolding. "I exist to serve you, my King." There was a pause, and as though sensing his King's dissatisfaction, he bent his head up to lock Arthur's brilliant blue eyes with his empty ones. "The blades of friends have sought your head before. I shall not allow it."

Agravaine popped suddenly into Arthur's mind, but his frustration was not quenched. He motioned to the prostrated knights. "If you recall Agravaine, how do you not recall your friends, whom you love?"

Emrys' head dropped down, resting his chin on his chest as though in submission. "Morgana was your friend. Those whom Merlin blindly trusts, I will suspect."

Arthur's thoughts seemed trapped behind his mind. He couldn't quite form an answer. Deeper though it was, it was still Merlin's voice, talking about himself as though he were a separate person. Perhaps at this moment... he was. He grit his teeth. "How do I bring you to your senses?" he demanded. "Return to me my servant."

Emrys did not look up, only raised a bony finger to point at the amulet that hung limply in the King's hand. "I go willingly, now that my duty is done."

Arthur scoffed and draped the chord over Merlin's head.

The sickly magic retreated with a rush, as though the air around them was suddenly more breathable. Merlin dropped heavily to his knees, just managing to catch himself on his hands. His shoulders quivered with effort and his breath came in huge gulps as though he had been trapped underwater. Leon was on his feet in an instant, his small knife back in his hands and eyeing Merlin as though he were a wild beast. No other knight moved, but they bent their heads up to await orders from the king that knelt before the servant.

"Merlin?" Arthur ventured.

Merlin's head shot up, his blue eyes wide and confused. The flesh at his temples was pale and clean. A thin sheen of sweat had covered his face, but no trace of the strange Emrys remained. "Arthur?" He looked around, and seemed alarmed by the face-down knights around him. The servant's body jolted in an attempt to bring him to his feet, but his weakened muscles foiled him and he fell to his side. "What happened? Is everyone alright?"

Arthur stared into the servant's eyes as though searching for the answers to his questions. "Everyone's fine." The knights seemed to take the slight nod of the king's head as permission to regain their feet and they began to right themselves. "Do you not remember?"

Merlin blinked. "Remember what?"

A calm realization seemed to settle into Arthur's face. "So... you and Emrys truly are two different people," he muttered under his breath. Merlin didn't appear to hear him and returned his gaze to the knights around them.

Gwaine seemed determinedly unaffected and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Gave us a scare there, Merlin." He hauled the thin man to his feet.

" _I_ did?" asked Merlin, leaning on Gwaine for support.

Arthur caught up Merlin's attention as he stepped forward. "You did." He set a finger to the amulet's blue gem and flicked the servant's thin nose when he bent to look. Merlin snorted and waved drunkenly at the hand. "See that you don't lose this."

Arthur strode past the unsteady servant and toward Bedivere, who remained on the ground, watching the others over the edges of the leaves surrounding his face. "On your feet, Bedivere," he ordered, offering the young man a hand, which the knight cautiously took. As he stood upright, the dark-haired man's eyes never left the warlock and Arthur chuckled clapping him on the shoulder. "Still grateful to be a part of my inner circle?"

That seemed to jolt Bedivere and he straightened so hard it nearly threw him off balance. "Absolutely, my king! Very honored!"

Gwaine laughed aloud, and received a wide-eyed and red-eared look from the young knight as Arthur continued up the path out of the basin and toward the stream where they'd left the horses.

"Merlin!" shouted Arthur, not turning his head. The servant perked up, but didn't speak. "See that you give them their swords back!"

Merlin looked around at the knights that had gathered around him again, and shied away from the hostility that seemed to eek off of Leon. "Your swords?" he repeated, looking to Gwaine.

Gwaine locked his arm around Merlin's shoulders and swung him around to point at the hilt of his own sword embedded in the wall.

As the sound of metal grinding against stone echoed out of the clearing behind him followed by the chatter of lively knights, Arthur's thoughts turned inward. Merlin changed so much with only the removal of a piece of jewelry.

This would require a great deal more consideration than he had originally thought.

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Let me know what you think! Hopefully see you next week!


	2. The Trap

Hey!

So... about that on chapter a week thing... that didn't work out. XD Been playing too much Ark: Survival Evolved. I NEED ALL THE DINOSAURS!

This chapter was actually the last one to be decided and figured out. XD I wobbled back and forth on this chapter several times. I'm actually kinda happy with how it turned out. More light and fun than my previous stuff. And much shorter. This one came in at only 1700 words! Hope you enjoy!

Review Responses:

Linorien: Rereading? Oh my! I'm so glad you liked it enough to read it again! XD And yes... shenanigans are afoot.

AMirroredImage: I am back! When I need something to listen to and help me focus, I sometimes listen to tv shows on my phone and listening to Merlin on Netflix does wonders for my motivation. Lol

twinterfiction: Thank you thank you thank you! That did seem to be the main question from readers after The Fox's Net- What happens afterward with Merlin and the Amulet?

mersan123: Yeah. I find that in my life personally, it's always good to assume that naked incarnations of pure water shaped like dead former lovers know what they are talking about. Lol As for Leon, yeah, it is kinda sad, but at the same time that is why I like him as a character. He's the knight who has been a knight the longest and as proven when they thought Arthur was dying and Gwen was going to have to take the throne, his first loyalty is to Camelot itself. He is willing to push through the bad stuff to ensure that the people of Camelot still have a place to call home and knights protecting them. There has never been any doubt that Leon loves Arthur and would die for him, but in that episode, he was willing to put the crown on Gwen's head because that is what Camelot needed. And while he loves Merlin, he understands that Merlin is a potential threat when he loses control. I feel that he is the stability of the knights and I love writing for him. Sorry, mini Leon love rant. Lol Perhaps one day they will be one and the same... tee-hee. And I'm so glad people liked the original enough to go back and read it again! XD

Camrynrose14: Oh, thank you! I'm glad they are immersive! Emrys scares you, huh? Well... things are gonna get crazy before this story is over...

1983Sarah: I'm glad! Hopefully the rest won't have long breaks between them like this one did.

Guest: Fantastic suggestions! XD You will see this addressed soon. Lol. I like that you are thinking!

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"Singing? You're telling me I should be concerned should a sorcerer begin to sing?" Arthur called over his shoulder with a laugh. He swiped a branch out of his way and was almost disappointed that his servant managed to duck out of its way as it swung back into place.

The king hefted his crossbow higher on his shoulder and wished once again that they had brought the horses further into the woods. The beasts were tied up near a stream some miles behind them near the city. Nervous and antsy, they were. The poor stable master's best breeding stock had perished during the siege, and so a hefty amount of coin had gone toward filling the stables again, but with horses that didn't yet know or trust their new masters. Arthur's own stallion had been begged free of his duties to sire a new generation of foals, and these days, the king was missing his calm and reliable steed. The mare he had been given was powerful and easily the pride of the lot they had purchased, but she was far too uncomfortable with her new master to be trusted to remain calm on a hunt. And thus, she and Merlin's new gelding had been left closer to the city, where the closed quarters of the woods could spook them no further.

The hunt had started promisingly enough, with Arthur pinning two small rabbits, but as game became sparser- due in part to Merlin's utter inability to move through the Darkling woods gracefully- it had become a simple walk. Despite the two dead rodents slung over his bony shoulder sending thin wafts of dead animal into his nose, Merlin found himself almost enjoying the day. The weather was beginning to give way to the warmth of summer. The sun shone in a cloudless sky and the canopy above them provided just enough shade to keep them cool. He had thus taken the privacy of their walk to speak to the king of magic.

" _Cyning_. _Cyning,_ not singing," sighed Merlin, as he narrowly avoided tripping over the fallen log that Arthur had smoothly stepped over. "If they say _cyning_ , they are referring to you. If they start singing, then they are using a magic I've no idea about."

"Is that the one that means kill?" asked Arthur, stopping to ponder suddenly enough that Merlin nearly bumped into him. "Cause if that's so, then they could be trying to kill anyone around."

"No, that's á _br_ _é_ _otan_. _Cyning_ means 'king'. So unless there's another king around, they mean you." Merlin rolled his eyes as he readjusted himself after the abrupt stop. The rope that suspended the rabbits from his shoulder was wearing a thin red line across his skin to match the one from the leather chord around the back of his neck. "You've really no mind for languages, have you? Nor much else, if I'm being honest."

Arthur turned in place as though examining the surrounding flora, but did it in such a way that one arm of the crossbow clipped the side of Merlin's head. "I can't very well be blamed for not knowing the Old Tongue," he argued, putting his back to Merlin again and clipping the other side of the servant's raven head. "No one's been permitted to speak it in Camelot for twenty years."

Merlin grumbled something under his breath and followed as Arthur began walking again. "I've tried to teach you four words, and you can't keep any of them straight. You'd think _f_ _ý_ _r_ would be easy to remember."

"That's fear, right? Cause you're just saying fear."

"Flame, Arthur. Flame. If they say _f_ _ý_ _r_ , chances are they are doing something with fire."

Seeming to ignore the criticism, Arthur put a finger to his chin in thought. "And the fourth one was something that begins with 'b'.. beads... no, beans...Bee..."

" _Bealdor_."

"That's the one. And it means devil... an evil one or some such."

"Only to me. Arthur, _bealdor_ means 'master'. If you hear me say that, it means I am referring to you, you prat." Arthur seemed to ponder the words for a moment before Merlin sighed heavily. "You've forgotten them all already, haven't you?"

Arthur scoffed and waved a hand over his shoulder at his servant. "Oh, what need have I for your fancy words? Excalibur doesn't need any commands." He tapped the blade at his hip and both king and servant could hear its magic hum in response.

Merlin made a quick violent gesture at the king's back. "These aren't for you to speak, Arthur! Since you haven't learned the language, you should at least listen for some of the words sorcerers use. I just figured- _bepæcestran byre_ (1)!" There was a quick snap and clatter as Merlin shouted the foreign words.

Arthur laughed. "I don't speak the Old Tongue, but I am almost certain that was a swear." He turned to address his companion, but there was no one behind him. "Merlin?" Magic erupted into the air and Arthur suppressed a shiver. There was a soft thump at his feet and Arthur looked down to see the pair of dead rabbits Merlin had been carrying and tangled in the rope binding the two of them was the shimmering blue of his amulet.

Arthur looked up to meet the solid white of Merlin's eyes and he flinched a little. The black tattoos had already wound their way down the sides of his face and his eyebrows had come to a point. He appeared to be suspended upside-down above him. A long silence stretched between the mighty king and the all-powerful servant.

"My King," said Merlin in greeting, his voice echoing unnaturally around him.

Arthur finally blinked and swallowed. "Merlin. I mean... Emrys."

The wind rustled the trees and Emrys' began to slowly spin in place.

Almost as though he feared to break the gaze he held with this man that was and wasn't Merlin, Arthur inched to one side and ran his eyes up Merlin's body. He was suspended upside-down so that his head dangled just above eye-level. One leg leaned awkwardly to one side while the other was held completely straight by the rope around his ankle.

Arthur forced the laughter back down his throat. "Some sort of hunting trap... it would seem."

"It would seem, my king," said Emrys as the soft spinning began to aim his face away from the blonde.

"Probably bears, considering it was able to lift you... and so high."

"Yes, my king," agreed Emrys, his voice muffled slightly as he continued to spin away from Arthur.

Arthur allowed the smile, but again swallowed the laughter. "Well... You can get yourself down, can't you?"

As Emrys' spinning brought him to face Arthur again, the king noticed that Merlin's normally pale face had begun to turn a deep shade of red. Veins were appearing in his neck and forehead and when he spoke, he sounded congested. It was an odd sound, as even thick as though with an illness, the voice echoed in his head. "Of course, my king."

There was another long silence, and still Emrys hung and spun.

Arthur looked him over again. Emrys kept his arms to his sides as though he was upright and his leaning leg had been brought up alongside the one that suspended him, but bent at the knee as though he were simply standing on one foot. "Is there... a problem?" Arthur finally asked.

Emrys looked at him, eyes mildly watery and veins pulsing at his marked temples. "Not a problem, my king. It is simply... I fear the outcome."

At last, Arthur giggled. He cut himself off, cleared his throat and waved a hand. "If you're worried about looking more ridiculous landing on your face, don't. I think just hanging there like that tops it."

Emrys' mouth remained a thin line as his spinning began again to face him toward the tree from which he was hanging. "It is not that... Only... I was not meant for such... precision. Please stand away, my king."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, grabbed the dead rabbits and amulet, and walked a few paces away before turning back to look at the suspended warlock. Seeing him in his full dangling glory brought another round of laughter up his throat that he couldn't stop. Emrys didn't seem bothered and pointed an open hand up toward his feet.

There was an explosion of heat and sound and a few chunks of wood slammed into the ground at Arthur's feet. He looked down for only a moment, and when he looked back up, Merlin was on his feet in front of the tree. A few yards to his right, a massive tree branch hit the ground with a thud that Arthur felt in his feet. His eyes climbed the tree behind the servant, and could see the stump left behind jutting out of the thick trunk about fifteen feet above. When his eyes were forward again, Merlin was on one knee at his feet, head bowed.

As Arthur began to untangle the amulet from the rope around the feet of the rabbits, a thought struck him. " _You_ weren't meant for such precision? You mean your magic wasn't?" he asked absently. He gave a soft cry of satisfaction as the amulet's leather chord broke free.

Emrys' raven head shook back and forth as Arthur slipped the leather strap over it. "I _am_ magic, my king."

The air was suddenly breathable again as Emrys' magic vanished back into the gem. Merlin dropped forward onto his hands and sucked gulps of air into his lungs. He leaped to his feet. "What just happened...?" he demanded, looking around the forest as though struggling to get his bearings.

Arthur sighed and shoved the rabbits back onto his thin shoulder. "Had a chat with Emrys." He readjusted his crossbow and strode past the bewildered warlock.

It took a long moment for Merlin to formulate a response. "Emrys?" He turned and stumbled over the bushes and branches at his feet to catch up to the king. "How did that happen?"

"Bear trap!" was the only explanation Arthur seemed willing to give.

* * *

1: "Whore's son!"

Merlin swore in Old English. XD Hope you liked it! Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. It is actually the first chapter I wrote for this story, but decided it fit better into the middle of the story rather than the beginning. For pacing's sake. Let me know what you think!


	3. The Ambush

Timely update! HOO-WAH

Hopefully I don't need to up the rating on this. I think it is okay. Just a bit more intense than previous chapters.

My brain has suddenly come up with a bunch of stuff I want to do outside of just this little six-chapter thing. I'm just enjoying running around this little canon that I've created. We'll see how it goes. But as I write these and play around with more and more ideas within this universe, I'm finding that my brain is coming up with more and more fodder to be used for a Fox's Net Sequel. We will see. :)

 **Review Responses**

Gwenneth: Why thank you! I've been focusing more and more on the language I use in my stories. I'm glad you like it!

AMirroredImage: Lol Thanks! I actually got the idea for Old Tongue swearing from CaptainOzone. I dunno if she used actual curses, but Merlin taught Arthur and all the knights how to say inappropriate things in the language of the Old Religion. You should definitely check out her stuff if you haven't already!

mersan123: No, Thank you! :D Yeah. It got lighter that chapter, but gonna get a little darker now. XD I wanted the first two chapters to be a little lighter, cause I have a tendency toward the darker stuff. Hopefully you still like it when it isn't as light and funny! Yeah, Arthur is handling it well for now. I have plans for all of that. Lol

1983Sarah: Thank you so much! I've actually recently been delving more and more into the characterization of the two of them, and the psychology fan within me is just having a blast. XD

cyenthia 30: Beyond this story, there are plenty of times when Emrys will appear if I continue to write within this universe, but eventually, Arthur, Merlin, and the Knights will learn to prevent it from happening accidentally. So there are only so many times it can happen before they figure out a solution.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"She's going to be very cross with you," warned Merlin, standing slightly in his stirrups to see the king's blond head.

"Oh really?" asked Arthur with a twist of his lip and a roll of his eyes. "Whatever shall I do?" he demanded unenthusiastically to the trees above them.

The air around the small procession of knights was chill and damp. The earth was soft beneath the hooves of their horses, muting them against the backdrop of birdsong. Spring had begun to relinquish its hold on the five kingdoms, grudgingly giving ground to the high sun and warmth of summer. Arthur sat astride his black mare with the grace of a monarch, marred somewhat by the exasperated look twisting his handsome features. Behind him rode Leon, his blonde curls still tousled from sleep and a gloved hand ever on his sword. Gwaine and Elyan continually shifted positions behind the captain as conversations rose and fell. Merlin trailed behind and to one side, his stocky gelding pulling a small litter behind him. Behind them all rode the bulky Percival, his blue eyes scanning the woods around them, but managing to keep a keen ear on the conversation.

The road south to the kingdom of Nemeth had never seemed so long. It shouldn't have taken more than four days to reach the capital, but Arthur's steady trek around a twisting scenic route had them into the fifth day, and they hadn't even reached the border. There were many questions at first, followed by several suppositions by Merlin that the king was simply lost. The jokes and questions had given way to genuine concern- not only from his warlock, but the other knights as well- as Arthur lead them on a long trip around the White Mountains on winding trails and long-forgotten roads that had triggered great aggravation in their mounts. Finally, when the Valley of the Fallen Kings yawned before them, Merlin had halted all horses at once with a single word.

Arthur had let out a swear and glared at the thin man as his mare backed away and turned around to face the rest of the party.

"Nothing good ever happens in there," Merlin had growled in answer to Arthur's unspoken question. All mirth and jest had fled his face. "Why are we going this way?"

Arthur had taken just a few seconds too long to respond and Merlin's concern hiked up a notch. "It's more secluded. Better cover if we're ambushed," Arthur had offered, turning his horse back toward the Valley and attempting to urge her forward. The mare tossed her head with a snort and took a few more backward steps away from the entrance. "Merlin, release my horse," he demanded, attempting not to sound petulant, but failing even to his own ears.

"Not until you explain why we are taking this route," ransomed Merlin. "The Chasdea Pass would have been much more direct and easier on the horses. Not to mention it doesn't pass through so many magical currents." He said the last few words as his eyes roamed suspiciously over the rocky path behind the king. "The Valley even meets up with it at the other side, if you're intent on going so far West."

"It's also completely open, across farmland. We're a small company that needs cover," Arthur had argued to a series of strange looks from his knights. It had almost seemed like he was reasoning with himself.

"What about the Farrow Trail?" pushed Merlin.

"Bandits spotted there," said Arthur shortly.

Merlin had been about to ask about the merits of the Massich Trail when Leon cut in.

"More than a month ago, Sire." There was a long pause that followed in which Arthur turned his gaze stubbornly into the mouth of the Valley. "Is something amiss, My Lord?" the blonde captain continued.

"The Valley provides the best cover," said Gwaine suddenly, "But we've experienced more than our share of bad luck here. The risk of ambush is the same no matter where we go. What's this about?"

Arthur sighed and Merlin could see his shoulders relax in defeat. "It's the least suspected of the paths we could have taken."

"Suspected?" repeated Merlin. "Arthur, the people of Camelot have no reason to believe we are visiting Nemeth for any reason other than a trade meeting. Why the extra caution?"

"Too many eyes have begun looking for answers to what happened last year, and as yet, there are none that will comfort anyone in Camelot as it stands now." He turned slightly in his saddle so he could look at his knights. "The council has become more bold and I'll take no risks when it comes to our secrets." This he said to Merlin, and the warlock had the sense to look slightly bashful.

"You suspect spies, Sire?" asked Leon. Arthur said nothing, but the look in his eyes told the captain all he needed.

The knights shifted on their horses, steadying themselves and bracing against the rough terrain that was coming. The king received a few nods of ascent and he smirked. "It would also be nice to reaffirm that we are capable of protecting ourselves with steel and sinew alone, as opposed to cowering behind the great Emrys." He spoke the name with a mocking flourish.

Merlin rolled his eyes and tossed a glance over his shoulder at the litter attached to his saddle. It was not going to be fun getting it across the rocky pathways that lay ahead. Arthur's horse suddenly responded to his subtle urging and started down the slope that lead into the Valley.

As the horses started after the king's, Merlin had called ahead, "You do recall that my magic is in your sword, right Arthur?"

"Shut up, Merlin!" cried Arthur without turning his head. "Keep your senses open."

There was little to interpret about the command. Merlin's magic enveloped them like a thick fog and there had been silence for a while after that. As usual, birdsong stopped entirely while in the Valley and the air around them became oppressive. They could almost feel a gentle pressure on all sides and all felt the urge to appear as small as possible. The wheels of the litter thumped and rattled against the rocks and was stuck often, though only twice did Percival have to dismount and pull the cart off of some natural snare.

Merlin's eyes spent the majority of the trip chasing ghosts. His magical awareness snagged persistently on waves of errant magic. His head whipped reflexively this way and that as he caught the shadow of power at the edge of his senses. He jumped at the slightest touch and halted them no less than four times as a stream of energy set his own magic to bubbling under his skin.

It wasn't until they caught the first glimpse of the valley's exit far ahead that conversation picked up again.

"You know she can make your mornings very unpleasant," said Merlin, his eyes darting toward a wisp of errant magic on his left.

"Can't be too much worse than you," chuckled Arthur, drawing smirks from the knights.

"I'm not capable of sitting on your window sill and screeching at that volume and pitch," said Merlin with a quirked eyebrow and a flip of the hand.

Arthur's face became suddenly pensive as he steered his mare up the last steep incline toward the break in the trees. The beast's pace picked up as she smelled the open air from the expanse of prairie beyond. "And I have complete confidence in your ability to dissuade her from such a gross breach of decorum."

"She's a bird. She really doesn't care," said Merlin. "And even if she did, she was revived using a human soul. She's much more intelligent than she was and much less inclined to obey my command when it involves something she does or doesn't want to do."

"Like tormenting your king for making you leave her behind?" he craned his neck.

"Repeatedly," mumbled Merlin.

"However often," Arthur defended. "Having her flying around up there would be easy for a spy to follow. This isn't a hunting trip, Merlin. Frio has no place on a diplomatic mission."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "That's all very strategic, but none of that matters to her. All she knows is that I keep going into hunting territory without bringing her. And intelligent though she is, she has no concept of a 'diplomatic mission'." The trees at their sides dropped away and the ground beneath the horses grew steady and even as they emerged onto a dirt road that split the brilliant green plains that opened on either side of them. "The closest understanding of it she has is, 'great limp-beaked flat-faces fly far to flap beaks more'."

Gwaine snorted and dissolved into chuckles while Leon looked indignant. "Is that really what she thinks of us?"

"Well... not in those exact words, obviously, but that's the basic idea of us in her-!"

"Ho! Travelers!" cried a faint voice, pulling attention back toward the valley. Merlin's awareness sharpened with a flash of gold in his eyes. The hand of every knight went to their swords and tightened, Leon even going so far as to pull his halfway out of its sheathe.

A huddled form hobbled from the valley at their backs. An old woman hefted a crude basket on one arm filled to the brim with a leafy red-flowered plant. She heaved herself over the last rise and came to stand several yards in front of the horses. "Spare some water, good sirs?" With her free hand, she gripped her limp water-skin. It hung open and flapped as she moved it. She rested her other hand on a knee to catch her breath for a moment and the collection of knights relaxed. Her eyes rose to meet them and grew wide at the lush red of their capes. She caught sight of Arthur and her eyes grew even larger. She dropped into a stiff bow that looked incredibly uncomfortable. "My king! My lords! Forgive my impertinence!" she cried. "I heard only the sounds of horses and voices! I knew not to whom I spoke!" She let the empty flask fall to her side.

Arthur waved at her. "Calm, madam. You have done no wrong," he said, slipping into a regal tone. "Merlin, provide one of our extra skins."

Merlin bobbed his head and hopped from his horse. He rummaged through the litter and produced a swollen water skin. He took her bone-dry flask and began to trickle water into it as she extended her profuse thanks to the blond king. Merlin's eyes strayed to her basket of scarlet-budded herbs. His eyebrows raised.

"Isn't that Emberlaude?" he asked, eyeing the tiny white flecks he could now clearly see on the blood-red petals.

"Good eye!" said the woman with a toothy smile. "Very rare. Only grows in the valley."

Leon scrunched his nose. "Also called 'King's Death', isn't it?" he asked, craning his neck to look at the basket. "It's poisonous.

"Indeed it is, my Lord Knight," said the woman. There was a quick puff of air from the woman's mouth into her basket and Merlin recoiled violently with a cry. Reddish dust erupted from the bed of herbs and clouded into the warlock's eyes and mouth. He coughed, dropping both the water skins and scrubbing at his face.

"Guh!" The guttural noise came from Merlin.

Everything happened suddenly. Gwaine and Leon- crossbow in hand- were off their horses and the beasts tore away from the commotion. Gwaine charged at the old woman, who gave a dismissive wave of her hand, and the knight was launched into the air away from her. Percival's arms were already hefting the large crossbow that hung from his saddle and taking aim at the trees that lined the valley. Elyan had drawn his sword, yanking the reigns of his horse in an effort to keep her from fleeing after Leon and Gwaine's steeds. Leon was pulling the king off his mare.

A crossbow bolt had buried itself in Merlin's chest.

"MERLIN!"

Arthur hit the ground as a bolt flew across his vacated saddle. His skittish mare wasted no time in taking off after the other animals. Through the forest of panicking horses' legs, he saw Merlin's back hit the ground. The arrow's shaft pointed toward the sky like a battle standard driven into the top of a hill. Poisoned blood was darkening the red of his tunic and staining the grass beneath him.

"Merlin!" Arthur surged to his feet as Leon stood and aimed his crossbow at the old woman.

The area around the king exploded into noise, but he stood stock still. Feathered bolts and arrows continued to appear out of the trees as lines of men and women surged from the valley to the far left and right of the group. Leon's focus left the old woman and began to take stock of the enemy. Excluding whomever was firing from the trees, he counted nearly twenty people. He aimed at a group of four to the right and fired into their midst. Percival notched another bolt into his own weapon and aimed it anew at the wall of men on his left. Elyan put his heels to his mare's flanks and she charged at the group on their right. Even as the knights threw themselves into combat, Arthur remained still. His knuckles were white around Excalibur's hilt and it pulsed angrily. His feet defied his orders to move. His eyes found the old woman, whose hand was held toward him and whose magic he could feel coiling around him like a snake. She flashed him a toothy grin. Gwaine appeared behind her, but another dismissive wave sent him crashing into a tree along the edge of the Valley. He fell to the grass with a dull thud and a string of curses.

Merlin's skin had lost what little color it had possessed. Blood stood stark against his flesh, making it look the color of fresh linens. The whites of his half-lidded eyes had gone pink, and deep red tears leaked down his temples and into his dark hair. The feathered tip of the crossbow bolt quivered with his shallow and shaky breaths as they hissed wetly in and out of his crimson-stained mouth. His thin hands were slick with blood as he groped weakly at the shaft of wood and smeared it across the blue gem of the amulet, whose chord was held taught by the bolt.

An arrow's head vanished into the ground at the king's feet and it stirred both monarch and warlock to attention.

The battle around him came into sudden and sharp focus. Percival and Leon had abandoned their crossbows for swords, but two men lay on the ground with bolts matching Merlin's. Percival had run toward the treeline, charging into a group of six enemies and opening one of them from shoulder to hip. He planted his foot in the man's stomach and sent him toppling into the bandit behind him. Another six had clustered around Leon behind the king, largely ignoring the trapped monarch. One of Leon's opponents flash a quick envious glance at Arthur's sword, but then refocused on the knight captain. The group on the right had scattered before Elyan's mare. Two lumps on the ground told Arthur the beast had taken a few of them down, but those regrouping around the dark-skinned knight were soon joined by a few more as he dismounted and pulled out his sword.

Arthur swore silently at Excalibur, urging it to free him, but the weapon only pulsed like a dog growling impotently from a chain.

"GUH!" The cry was guttural and wet, accompanied by a spray of poisoned blood. Merlin's torso convulsed upward, and his stained hands made a sloppy sweeping motion. Screams died quickly across the open plains and beneath the din of the fight. Four forms tumbled out of the trees that lined the valley, their crossbows falling after them. The bolts and arrows coming from the trees abruptly ceased.

The old woman's face twisted into an expression of rage and her eyes flashed to the prone warlock. "Die, damn you!" she shrieked. She aimed a gnarled finger at the earth and Arthur felt the magic around him slacken a small bit.

The bolt forced itself so deeply into Merlin's chest, Arthur was certain the head had vanished into the ground beneath him. Merlin's body spasmed around the shaft and he cried out in a fresh wave of pain, sending more poisoned blood into the air and choking him.

Arthur's rage flooded the sword in his hand and with a flash of light from the blade, he felt the magic around him vanish. He swung his sword in a horizontal arc and a disc of light tore itself from the blade. Almost faster than he could see, the disc sliced cleanly through the old woman's neck. Her head tipped back, landing some feet behind them while her body fell heavily to the ground at Merlin's feet.

A chorus of oaths erupted behind him, but before he could turn to attack, two distinct sets of shoulders found his back. He landed hard and the weight of the men atop him drove the breath from his lungs. As he struggled to force his breathing back into rhythm, he tasted dirt and smelled the acidic poison of his warlock's blood. Merlin's dark hair was nearly tickling his nose and Arthur suddenly found he had no care for the men on his back.

"Merlin!" he managed as one of the bandits dug his knee into the king's spine.

The manservant's head rolled slightly to one side. "Arthur?" His voice was small and breathy. "I can't see..." His words faded at the end and blood gurgled weakly in the back of his throat.

"Merlin, stay with me!" cried the king, writhing beneath the ministrations of his attackers. A blade appeared at his throat and the man holding it was yelling something, but he was deaf to all but the faint wheezing of Merlin's breath in his throat. He swore and promised every kind of death he could think of on the men as he was hauled to his feet and yanked a few feet away from his dying manservant.

A fist across the jaw bloodied his lip and silenced his cursing. The man in front of him glared at the king and seemed to take stock of the battle which had ground to a halt around them. Percival lay on his belly, one man holding each arm and a man and a woman sitting astride his back like a fallen horse. His face was turned toward the king, but the man sitting on him had a hold of the bear's head like he feared that it alone could be used to escape. Behind him, was an uninjured of the enemy's company, who stooped to check over an arrow-struck form at his feet. Elyan had apparently moved away from the treeline and joined the fight near Arthur because he and Leon were on their knees at either side of the king, their arms held behind their backs by two men apiece. Near the entrance to the Valley, Arthur could barely make out Gwaine's prone form on his back, still, and straddled by a single man with a short blade to the knight's neck. A ways to the right was a single woman who sheathed her sword and inspected the three still bodies that lay nearby. One sported a crossbow bolt whose feathers boasted the colors of the knight captain, and the others lay in broken piles. Arthur could see one of them move feebly, but Elyan's horse had left little of the man's body usable. Only the knife at his own throat kept the king silent.

"Oh does this one ever stir me!" cried the woman atop Percival suddenly. A demented smile split her face as she leaned to one side so as to be seen by the man at Arthur's front. "May I keep him?" she called, eyeing Percival hungrily. The large knight began to say something vulgar, but the man with his hand on Percival's head forced his face to the dirt and cut it off.

"You'll have to ask the Lady," said the man whom Arthur now assumed was the leader. "I figure she has plans for them, considering she wants them alive. Which means, Claven," he raised his voice and the man sitting on Gwaine turned his head. "That one better be alive. We'll only get half if he's dead."

Claven gave a toss of his head, but was too far away for Arthur to judge his expression. The woman on Percival slapped playfully at the arm of the man in front of her. "Come Feld, let me have his head." She grinned. "I'll have a look at that neck," she cooed, but the man simply rolled his eyes and ignored her. She settled into a pout at his back. From the treeline came two crossbowman, one hefting two of the weapons in his arms and the other dragging only one behind him while his free arm was clutched gingerly to his stomach. The limb looked swollen and bent slightly at an angle in the middle of the forearm.

"Lydah and Eppit're dead. Didn't survive the fall," called the man with two crossbows.

The man at Arthur's front swore and aimed a sharp kick at Merlin's shoulder, but the warlock didn't stir. Arthur felt the knife at his throat nick him as he surged forward, and his captors just barely managed to hold him back. "Don't you _touch_ him!" he shouted savagely.

"Hush now, little king," said the man, unbothered by the blood-lust in Arthur's eyes.

"I'll pay you the other half if you let me spill him myself back at camp, Vert!" bargained the woman on Percival. She leaned forward around Feld in an effort to whisper huskily in the knight's ear, "In a more private setting of course."

The man at Arthur's front rolled his eyes. "Still your loins, Lig. We'll discuss it later. None of them die before then."

"What about this one?" asked the man with two crossbows, unloading the weapons gently to the ground a few feet from Merlin's still form. He remained squatted down and looked the warlock over. "Bolt's keepin' his blood in 'im, but if he don't drown in his own blood, poison'll take him before long."

"Obviously, she wanted _him_ dead, you great oaf," said Vert with another roll of his eyes. He made a broad motion with his hands. "Get them on the wagons! I want us at base by nightfall." The man behind Percival nodded sedately and began moving to help handle the large knight. The woman to the right knelt beside the one moving form and appeared to be speaking quietly to him. The man with the broken arm heaved a sigh and began lugging himself toward the Valley's entrance.

"And who gets to keep this?" asked the man by Merlin, using his thumb to wipe away the blood on the amulet's blue gem. "Masterwork, this is. Should be worth a hefty bit of coin." As he held the amulet in one hand, he ran his eyes over the warlock's humble dress, as though expecting to find some other unlikely treasure.

"Add it to the bag," Vert said, looking back at Arthur with a smile. "The Lady said nothing about their valuables. That'll fetch a handsome price in Mercia."

As the bandit grabbed a handful of hair and lifted Merlin's blood-soaked head, Arthur felt an inkling of hope. The man slid the chord over the warlocks hair and stood, examining the blue gem in the light.

Arthur's senses exploded with the rush of Merlin's magic. The air around them bubbled with power and even the bandits seemed to notice. Most of them tensed and looked around; the woman by the broken man even surged to her feet with a hand on her weapon. Once again, Arthur felt as though he were being coddled in a sea of blades. A deathly silence filled the air. Wind gently pressed in on them from all sides and the man holding the amulet hunched his shoulders and looked around like a cornered animal.

"Y-you feel that?" he asked stupidly.

Arthur's eyes drew down to the ground at their feet, but Merlin's prone form was gone.

"You will release my king now."

Vert flailed and scrambled away from the voice in his ear. Merlin stood right at his back. The winding marks were stark and black down his face, accompanied by the streaks of red from his formerly bleeding eyes. Said orbs had since been purged of all blood and were solid and pure white. His voice was otherworldly and deep, echoing off the trees of the nearby Valley unnaturally as well as in their heads. It was a thin disguise for the rage that Arthur could feel bubbling under the magic around him. The crossbow bolt was simply gone from his chest, leaving a large tear in his bloodied tunic as the only evidence it had ever been there. Through the opening could be seen only whole flesh, with no blemish to prove an arrow had impaled it. While his lips and teeth were still stained crimson, blood no longer dripped and sprayed when he spoke.

"What manner of-?!" The man with the amulet stumbled back and groped for one of the crossbows he had set down.

A knife was suddenly in Vert's hand. The two unencumbered bandits drew weapons and took a few tentative steps toward the warlock, but seemed to lack the courage to outright attack him.

"Why aren't you dead?!" Vert demanded, aiming his knife at Merlin's heart.

The warlock's head twitched to one side: a tiny motion, a fraction of a head shake. Vert's head snapped far to one side with a crunch that sent a chill up Arthur's spine. The man hit the ground in a limp pile. All caution from the tense bandits exploded into panic. The bandit behind Percival and the crossbowman with the broken arm turned toward the Valley and burst into a sprint, but were all at once snatched from the ground. They hovered in midair, kicking and screaming oaths at the invisible force that held them. Both the living broken man and the woman beside him were suddenly in the air as well with a scream from both of them. The broken man hung limply, his head lolling back on his neck and his legs bent at odd angles in more than one place apiece. The man sitting on Gwaine was on his feet and casting his eyes this way and that for something more substantial than the short sword he held for just a moment before he was lifted into the air as well. The men holding Percival's arms leaped to their feet and drew weapons, but appeared to have escaped Merlin's senses, for they remained on the ground. They seemed caught in indecision for a second before taking a few hefty steps backwards and toward the Valley. The man and woman atop Percival seemed to take comfort in their positions and only shifted so as to be more firmly situated, but both faces contorted in horror.

There was a thump; the sound of a firing crossbow. The head of the man holding the amulet suddenly snapped back. The bolt that had been loaded into his weapon was gone and reappeared between his eyes. He slumped to the ground.

Percival glanced up at the commotion, and his eyes latched onto Merlin's thin form. He met the king's gaze for a moment. Arthur gave him an almost undetectable shake of his head. Percival nodded back and lowered his head back to the earth and stayed still.

Arthur could feel the trembling of the two men that held him, but they did not relinquish their grip.

"You will release my king now," Emrys demanded again.

The breath of his captors was shallow in his ears and he felt the edge of the rogue's knife prod the soft tissue behind his jaw.

"B-back, Sorcerer!" he cried with false bravado. He could feel his other captor cast a glance down at Vert's body. "Your king will die if you touch us!"

Emrys glanced at the blade with empty eyes. The slant of his head, the set of his jaw, the wide white of his eyes... he seemed almost a feral beast on the hunt. He made no motion nor indication that he had heard the threat. Behind him, Arthur heard Leon hit the ground where he lay flat and turned his head to the grass. The king could just barely make out the panicked footsteps of the two bandits that had held him as they fled. White orbs shifted in their sockets and the two men joined their fellows in crying swears and curses upon the magic that held them aloft.

"On the ground, Beast!" Another blade settled against his throat.

The tip of the first knife dug deeper into Arthur's skin and he winced. A thin drop of warm blood tickled his throat as it oozed out from under the blade. The hair on Arthur's arms and neck stood on end. Even without iris or pupil, the king could tell the sorcerer was following the blood's progression down his neck. White eyes widened further, and the air boiled with his rage. The sea of blades that coddled him seemed to turn inward, prodding him under his skin and inciting a prickling sensation down his limbs. The men with the daggers clearly felt it as well: they started and jumped a little at the sudden feeling.

Elyan hit the ground on Arthur's other side and assumed the same position as Leon. The men holding him didn't get two steps before they were swept into the air and held. That seemed to break through some wall of courage the men beside Percival had clung to and they turned to flee, only to be hoisted up to join their teammates. Only Lig remained where she was, scowling at Merlin's back, while Feld slowly got to his feet.

"You will release my king. Now." There was a dark note of finality in his tone. The blade at Arthur's neck faltered a little in the bandit's hands, but he steeled himself and held firm.

"I'll spill him! Right here!" cried the rogue.

Arthur knew this man was a traitor to any kingdom he entered. He needed to know little about this criminal-for-hire to be sure he wasn't worth the breath that kept him alive. Given the chance, Arthur would run him through for his treason. And yet, the king found himself whispering, "Do what he says, for your own sake."

The hands on his forearms squeezed tighter. "You're a brave sod, I'll give you that," the man growled through clenched teeth. "Keep your mouth shut."

The white eyes flashed angrily and still the bandits held firm. "We're taking him!" announced the other captor. What motivated these two, Arthur found himself wondering, that they would risk so much for the coin on the king's head? Perhaps it was only the gold. Or a sense of duty, perhaps, toward their fallen comrades, though Arthur found it difficult to associate such a sense with the lowlifes around him. Maybe it was simply their pride, or a combination of all.

"How many knives can you stop, Hellspawn?" shouted Lig suddenly, cutting off Arthur's musings. She held her dagger's point against the vertebrae at the small of Percival's back. One palm rested gingerly on the pommel, poised to drive it down toward the earth. "You'll let us leave."

Percival squirmed a little under the sharp point of the blade and sent a glare over his shoulder. Emrys didn't seem to register that the woman had spoken at all.

A muscle-bound arm snapped across the warlock's throat. One hand gripped his lean face and tipped it to one side, baring his neck to the dagger that Feld's other hand was plunging toward Emrys' collarbone.

"No!" shouted Arthur, his jerk earning him another few drops of blood. He needn't have spoken.

The knife hit the ground, bloodless. Flames shot up Feld's hands and within seconds had consumed his body. His screams rent the air. He writhed away from the sorcerer and flailed at his own body as though he could smack the flames away. Only a few seconds later, he was a heap of smoldering flesh on the ground. Never once did Emrys take his eyes from the knives at Arthur's throat.

Over the warlock's shoulder, the king watched Lig's hands tense and she forced her blade down.

"Percival!" yelped Arthur.

His cry was drowned out by Lig's. She shrieked and stiffened before falling forward to lie fully on Percival, her own dagger buried to the hilt in her back.

The prairies swallowed another crackle of bones. The man held in the air directly across from Arthur gave a violent spasm and his head jerked to one side and stayed there. He dropped to the ground and became nothing more than an unmoving lump beside Gwaine. The roguish knight's arm lifted from the ground at his side to poke at his head with a moan.

"Gwaine! Stay down!" shouted Arthur.

Gwaine's head popped up to survey the situation, but quickly dropped back down.

At the next snap and scream, Arthur felt the blades at his throat retreat. The hands came off his arms at the next. Arthur sighed and rubbed his flesh where their fingers had left small red marks. As he stooped to retrieve Excalibur, his former captors yelped. He spun to see them floating a few feet off the ground, necks stretched out and popping with veins and strained muscles as though an invisible fist had closed around them. They clawed at their own throats and reddening faces as they made strangled gurgling noises.

"Merlin," said Arthur, looking between the two men and his manservant. "Merlin, stop." The warlock's eyes did not move. He stared up at the strangling men with a set jaw. Behind him one of Leon's captors had begun flailing and clawing at his neck. Arthur spun at the strangled cry and then turned back to Emrys. "Merlin, stop this! Stop it now!" Still the warlock ignored him. Arthur couldn't yet explain why, but he needed this to cease. Two more men behind Emrys began to gag and writhe. Arthur didn't know where the words came from, but he bellowed, "Emrys! Heed your king! Stop! NOW!"

Raucous coughs erupted around them. No bandit's feet touched the ground, but their voices rose in a chorus of oaths and pleading.

Finally, Merlin's empty white eyes shifted to the king. There was no emotion to be found. The man who abhorred hunting animals now felt nothing at the pain and suffering of the men he held with his magic. Arthur set his shoulders, his anger ebbing away to be replaced with something between fear and weariness. "I have no love for these men, and they deserve all that you can do to them. But this is not you. Merlin would never-"

"I am his rage." Emrys cut him off and punctuated his words with a chorus of cracks and crunches. Every mercenary fell lifeless to the earth. "I am all that he needs and wants to be deep inside." The suddenly foreign warlock stood at a strange detached attention. His back was straight and head held high. His hands were folded neatly behind his back and he stared into Arthur's eyes as he spoke.

Arthur found that his hands had tangled into the shoulders of Merlin's tunic and forced himself to relax. "You cannot tell me he wants to be such a killer," he said lowly.

Emrys did little more than blink. "He wants to protect you... and punish those who would do you harm."

Arthur found his gaze suddenly impossible to meet and he wandered over to the man to their left. The arrow had lodged itself just below his brow and in between his wide-open eyes.

"He has killed for you before," came Emrys' impassive voice.

Arthur felt his anger rising again. He snatched the amulet out of the fallen man's hand and stood. Emrys was on his knees as he had been in the woods- head bowed forward and awaiting the pendant. Arthur found his submission only stirred his anger further. He strode forward and roughly pushed the chord over his head.

There was a rush of intangible wind. The blades of Merlin's magic were swept away. Once again, Merlin pitched forward onto his hands, gulping down air like it had been withheld from him. One shaky hand groped at the hole in the front of his tunic and he sat back on his feet looking up at the king. "Arthur?"

"Has he come back?" called Leon, his voice muffled by grass and dirt.

"He has," said Arthur, a critical eye moving over his manservant. Merlin's gaze swept the area, spotting each of the knights as they got to their feet. Gwaine's gait was unsteady as he wobbled back toward the king, one hand on his bloody temple. Percival shrugged Lig's limp form off his back and brushed himself off. Bodies littered the grounds and Merlin's eyes took stock of all of them before meeting Arthur's unreadable gaze.

"I take it Emrys had something to do with all this," he said solemnly.

Arthur didn't answer the question that burned in the warlock's words. He turned and glanced around. Get our horses back," he commanded shortly.

Merlin stood, eyes flashing gold. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

The king spotted his mare and ran a hand through his hair with a heavy breath. "I don't like this Emrys," he said after a long moment.

Merlin glanced down at the amulet and wrung it in his hands. "Might be a bit rough," he chuckled weakly and no one joined him. "Considering you want him to cement the allegiances with Nemeth and Caerleon."

"You, Merlin. Not him," Arthur snapped, tying Excalibur to his saddle and jabbing a finger at him. "You, the peaceful and kind sorcerer, the one who breaks the trend of murderous and dangerous magic-users. Not this..." he motioned to the body strewn grass around them. Merlin's eyes followed his gesticulation, and Arthur almost regretted his tone at the sight of the turmoil in his servant's eyes. "... thing."

Merlin seemed aware he was missing something, but dared not ask for it of his suddenly grave king. He had to force the words out of his mouth, as though his brain bade him not speak them. But before he could stop himself, he said, "But... that 'thing' is me, Sire."

"No." Arthur shook his head- a flat refusal. "You don't get to see what he does in your absence. He. Is not. You."

Merlin cast one more glance around at the near twenty bodies that lay strewn around the path they walked. He sighed, held his tongue, and tried not to see the faces of the dead as he moved through them. The rest of the trip to Nemeth promised to be a long one if it was to be made in this silence.

* * *

Wow... no spell translations...? I had no Old English here? Crazy. Hope you liked the darker turn and I will see you soon for the next chapter!


	4. The Banquet

Hey everyone! Merry Christmas!

So sorry for all the waiting on this! It got a bit derailed this month when the company I was working for closed down. My brain just wasn't in the mood to write much. XD I've had the time to write lately, but I haven't had too much motivation, and so I am forcing myself back into it! Hopefully this chapter doesn't feel forced. Granted about half of it was written before I found out I was losing my job. lol I am excited about this chapter, as it does start probing the central concepts of this whole Emrys thing.

 **Review Responses**

Guest: Yeah. He and Emrys gonna have some interesting times, I think.

AMirroredImage: I'm glad you liked the swearing. XD I want to use that swear in real life now. Stub your toe, "Bepæcestran byre!" And I'm glad the violence went over well. I was worried about the rating. As for where this one takes place... you'll see!

Linorien: I'm glad you liked the darker tone! Dark is more my comfort zone, I think. Either dark or serious, whatever. I tried to be light hearted in the beginning, and I'm glad that there was a contrast at least. XD

1983Sarah: It definitely could. In more ways than one!

Mersan123: I'm glad you find him scary! He's supposed to be that way. XD I always worry about whether or not what I intend is what makes it through. And as for Merlin having such a great amount of power, I actually delve into that in this little fic. In this chapter, and in the future ones. And Christmas on a stick is one of the best things I have ever heard. Looool

shell22: You are super welcome! And thank you!

Lvaleria: That I have actually done. XD And thank you so much! I am so thrilled that you like this little version of Merlin that I have created. I really love running around in it. Lol

Emppuw: Thank you so much! I am sorry you had to wait so long to read the next chapter!

FateOfChaos: Absolutely. I try not to take sides against or for my characters, Lol, but you are right. Arthur has never been exposed to the Merlin that killed Agravaine. He has never seen Merlin as a true protector before, and so he doesn't really have a clue as to what Merlin is capable of doing when his king's life is in danger. And Emrys is quite a bit of fun. He is rather... emotionless and ruthless. I like writing for him. :) Thank you so much!

I hope you enjoy and I hope you all have a wonderful season, celebrating your holidays!

* * *

"Arthur..."

He was suddenly enveloped in water, weightless and drifting. There was magic all around him- spreading infinitely in every direction. Vaguely similar to Merlin's, he found himself thinking, but so much bigger- heavy and pounding as though with the rhythm of a massive heart.

"Arthur..."

The voice was faint and familiar. It whispered through his mind from the impossibly intricate web of the magic around him. It was both a part of its heartbeat and separate.

"Arthur."

There was a presence before him and a face formed.

"Freya," The name came to mind and it echoed around him, but he couldn't recall moving his lips. "Where am I?"

Her mouth curled in a small smile. "Exactly where you were. You called me."

The words were as molasses in his brain. "I didn't. I wouldn't know how."

She motioned to his hip, and he was suddenly reminded that there was a body around his mind. "You called through Excalibur. It responds to your confusion."

"Do you come to Merlin this way?" He suddenly thought.

Her smile fell from her face and a sadness wound itself around her. "No."

The image of Merlin's pining eyes flashed across his mind, followed quickly by the kiss Freya had given him at the lakeside. "Why not?"

The woman looked up and around them as though she were watching his memories play before her. After a moment, she looked back to him with a soft sigh. "Is that what you called me to ask?"

"No," thought Arthur quickly.

With a wave of her hand, her body came into focus. She was as she had appeared to him at the lake- naked and clothed in water. "Then you _do_ have a question for me." She looked around them again, watching memories play out the king's confusion. "Is it about Emrys?"

Arthur felt his frustration and anger bubble and the water around him was suddenly warm. "What is he? What have you done to Merlin?"

Freya shook her head. "I've done nothing but separate him from the magic that was killing his body."

Arthur tried to shake his head, but his awareness of his body was so fleeting he wasn't sure if he moved. "No. That magic is... he is a... thing. He is not Merlin."

"I told you that was so."

"But how can that be? How can his own magic be killing him- or separated from him? He is vicious and cold... not like Merlin. He claims to serve me, but disobeys me and murders without thought."

There was something frustratingly patronizing about the smile that came over Freya's face. "You ask me to explain a pebble when you do not understand the mountain beneath it." She seemed to sense the king's displeasure and continued. "Then let me ask you this, Arthur Pendragon... what do _you_ think Emrys is?"

The question caught him off guard and it must have shown in his thoughts because she looked up and around them again. "Do you think it was happenstance that the most powerful warlock ever to live became your servant... your protector?"

"Of course not." The thought echoed around him before he realized the truth of the words. Had he truly ever thought that his warlock's presence was luck? But then... what was it? "Merlin always said it was his destiny to serve me," he blurted.

"Words that he is merely repeating. He believes that because he has been told so by someone he trusts. And... to some extent it is true." Her voice lost its levity and the frustration that had churned the water around them was overwhelmed by her presence. "But destiny is only the shape of the future, and it is molded by the events of the world around us. If you wish to understand Emrys, you must understand why he exists."

"He exists because you created him." The thought was angry... angrier than he figured he was.

"I created nothing. Emrys is but the expression of Merlin's magic." She was calm, and it fueled his anger.

"But that cannot be! He is a person. He speaks words that are not Merlin's. Does things that Merlin would not do. He claims to be Merlin's rage. He claims to be what Merlin needs and wants to be- but I think he is a liar. How can he be only magic if he has the mind to say all that?"

"If you want to understand Emrys, you must first understand why he exists," she repeated.

"Arthur?" The voice was far off and he shrugged it away from himself.

"You speak nonsense. You may as well be asking me to explain why _Merlin_ exists."

"Arthur?" The voice was persistent and still he pushed it away.

"That is precisely what you must understand," said Freya.

"Arthur!"

The king's head jerked back on his neck, smacking the top of his chair. Merlin was standing at his side, his body craned around the chair to look him in the eyes. A dopey grin curved his mouth. "Seems like you dozed off there for a moment."

Indignance shot through the king. "That's what happens when you're boring, Merlin." He shook his head and yawned. It took a moment of thought to remember where he was. Nemeth. He was in a set of guest chambers in the royal palace. He and his knights had been well-received by Lord Rodor and his daughter Mithian. They had been here for nearly four days.

Under the guise of a trade meeting, the two kings, the princess, and Merlin, had met to discuss a new treaty. Their correspondence via bird had been limited for fear of discovery, and so it was only in person that Arthur revealed his concern that his council might oppose the changes he sought to bring about in his kingdom. With that opposition might come resistance from the council members with the influence and conviction to throw Camelot into turmoil.

Such a confession could have been perceived as just as dangerous as confronting his council, for Arthur was admitting he doubted the loyalty of his own advisers. But their correspondence had assured Arthur that Rodor had not forgotten that he held his throne only because of Arthur.

Both the royals had been skeptical and shocked that the change Arthur sought to bring about was the relaxation of the laws on sorcery- the laws that his father had enforced with what some called fanaticism. Rodor had not Uther's hatred for magic, but neither did he trust it. Arthur then bared his most precious secret- that his servant was a warlock. Merlin had declined to do anything more than generate a bit of wind to prove his magical abilities, and such a delicate introduction to the matter seemed to go over well. Rodor was still disquieted by the presence of sorcery, but Mithian well knew Merlin's compassion and kindness and could vouch for his good character. Rodor seemed to respect that the king would defy his own council to grant his friend and those like him their freedom. There was much talking and questions- so much so that Arthur briefly worried whether or not Rodor could be persuaded to agree. But in the end, the treaty had been signed and a great feast planned in celebration.

The following day, the shadow of betrayal seemed to hang in Arthur's thoughts. So often he had trusted the wrong people. Could this simply be another such instance? Merlin seemed confident in their decision and in this, he would trust his friend. At least there, he knew his faith was well-placed.

"Shall we dress you for the feast, Sire?" Merlin's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Oh... yes," said the king, standing and moving to the wardrobe. He watched his gangly manservant closely as he spread the prepared clothes out on the bed. Must he truly discern why his manservant existed? What exactly did that mean? It was simply all to do with the love a man and a woman. But an entity like the Lady of the Lake couldn't possibly mean such simplicity.

Merlin straightened, a thin white tunic in hand and stopped to stare at the king. "Arthur...?" He looked behind him at the window by the lavish bed, as though searching for whatever had caught his friend's eye. When he looked back, Arthur's brow had furrowed further. "What?"

Arthur shook his head and pulled his tunic off, motioning for the thin one Merlin was holding. After another second of hesitation, Merlin shrugged the king's behavior off and slid the tunic over his head and wide shoulders. As he retrieved the next layer from the bed, Arthur huffed. "Merlin?"

"Yes Sire?" sighed the servant, with a hint of impatience.

"Have you ever thought it..." Arthur groped for a word, and found the one he eventually grasped woefully inadequate. "... odd that you are my servant?"

Merlin blinked at him. "Odd?" He gave a disbelieving chuckle. "That's a little too simplistic a word to describe my thoughts on the matter. But... not really, I suppose. You have lots of servants, and the palace has had many in the past. Doesn't really seem odd that anyone would have worked in the palace at some point." He wrapped a leather tunic around Arthur's torso and began fastening the golden clasps.

Arthur waved him off. "No, but you are my personal manservant- a rather prestigious position." Merlin scrunched his nose and twisted his lip, and Arthur stuck a finger in his face. "Don't give me that look, Merlin. It is. Many people train for years in meal preparation, mending, polishing, manners, language, posture in the hopes of serving close to the royal family. Look at George." Merlin snorted a little. "You have no training whatsoever, weren't even born in Camelot, and you are a sorcerer. And yet somehow... you became the personal servant to a king whose father actively sought out and killed sorcerers."

Merlin bobbed his head back and forth slightly as though he hadn't quite considered the improbability of his position. "I remember being surprised when your father announced that my 'reward' for saving your life was to be your servant-"

"Obviously because your country bumpkin mind didn't know what an honor he was giving you," sniffed Arthur with a smirk.

Merlin continued with a roll of his eyes. "But I guess I never really thought about how hard some people work to be worthy of drawing your bath water and seeing you wandering around your room naked." Arthur scoffed and tugged on the tunic to fit it better across his shoulders as Merlin moved to clasp it at the neck. "But I came to the realization fairly early on that it was my destiny to serve you." There was a soft lilt in his voice as he spoke the word 'destiny'. One that always seemed to accompany their discussions about such things.

Arthur pursed his lips. "But why?" Merlin raised an eyebrow at him before fetching his belt from the bed. "What made you realize it was your destiny?" He stared at the servant as he fastened and adjusted the large golden buckle. After a moment, the king spoke again. "Was it something you came to on your own? Or did someone tell you that?"

Merlin busied himself with his task, seeming to take the king's question as rhetorical, because the conversation died there. But Arthur could almost see the thoughts spinning behind the warlock's eyes as he dressed himself. They were both washed with relief when a guard stuck his head in the door and announced that the banquet was beginning.

For once, Arthur attended the feast not as a warrior king with mail and cape, but as a guest with a fine tunic, polished boots, and a cloak of satin. Merlin had been gifted a new leather jerkin with brass clasps that hugged his lithe form in a way that drew the eyes of several of the serving girls of Nemeth. Arthur did not fail to notice that throughout the banquet, Mithian's eyes seemed to stray to his servant as well, but with Rodor in the chair next to him, the king opted to keep quiet about it. The warlock, along with three other servants, carried a pitcher of wine through the hall, walking along the tables and assuring that all goblets remained full.

Several pitchers were consumed before the minstrels took up a dancing tune, and half the guests stood to frolic in the open space in front of the musicians (including Gwaine, dragged there by a beautiful, but clearly intoxicated, councilman's daughter). Arthur remained in his seat, speaking amicably with Rodor while Merlin was forced to hover around the boisterous Lord Amwren, repeatedly refilling his wine goblet. Mithian tried valiantly to hide a snicker behind her hand at the exasperated look on the warlock's face. She did her best to focus on the lively dancing lines of people, but her attention seemed to continuously snag on the warlock as he struggled to deal with the large noble. At one point the thin servant met her gaze, smiled wanly, and returned to the ministrations of Lord Amwren.

"Mithian, my love," called Rodor, pulling her attention away from the servant. She looked to her father to see him beckoning her over and so she stood and rounded his seat to lean in. "Arthur would like to have a jousting competition between the knights of Camelot and Nemeth. What do you think?" he asked over the noise of music and clamorous nobles.

Mithian arched an eyebrow at Arthur, whose responding expression was just as challenging. "I think," said Mithian, "that you underestimate our magnificent horses. Our stable master is the best breeder in all the land."

"What's this, then?"

Mithian stood and turned as her father dove into a hearty agreement, and the kings began to speak of bloodlines and steeds. Mithian looked down the table at Lord Amwren, whose voice seemed to suddenly soar above the others in the room. Merlin was bent forward until his forehead was almost touching Lord Amwren's and it took a second look to see that the noble had in his hand a blue amulet attached to a chord around the servant's neck.

"Why, you're just a servant!" Amwren slurred indignantly, yanking on the amulet and jerking Merlin down a little. "What's such a fine gem doing around your neck?"

"Please, my Lord, it was a gift from my master." Mithian could just barely make out Merlin's words. He pulled feebly at the lord's large hands with his free one, while the other clutched desperately at the sloshing wine pitcher.

"Far too fine a stone to be a gift!" cried Amwren. Behind her, she could hear Arthur take notice of his struggling servant and stand from his chair. Mithian hurried toward the servant. "Certainly too fine for a scrawny little peasant like you!"

With a quick jerk, the worn leather chord gave way and snapped. The amulet fell into Amwren's hand and he examined the gem at its center. Mithian froze as a strange shiver ran down her spine.

Merlin was gone.

Before her eyes he had simply vanished in the space of a blink. Amwren didn't seem to have noticed until the wine pitcher clattered to the floor, splashing red liquid up one of his pant legs. He swore and shook a fist at the air where Merlin had been. "Get back here and clean this up you scrawny wretch!"

Mithian opened her mouth, but was cut off as Arthur hurried past her.

"Lord Amwren!" he cried. "That is a gift I gave to my servant for saving my life. I'll thank you to return it."

The large noble looked startled by the king's approach, but immediately bowed in his chair and offered the amulet to the king standing over him, offering a plethora of mewling apologies and drunken platitudes. Arthur examined the broken chord and sighed. He meandered back toward his seat, casting troubled eyes over the crowded banquet hall. Mithian closed the distance between them as he passed.

"What troubles your Majesty? And where has Merlin gone?"

Arthur waved a hand at her, and his eyes continued to scan the room. "Worry not, my Lady. It is under control," he offered in as official a tone as he could manage.

"Your eyes betray your concern, my Lord. What's happened?" the princess pushed.

Arthur's smile was taught. "Nothing. I simply need to find Merlin. Did you see where he went?"

Mithian's mouth narrowed into a thin line, and her words lost their stiff official coloration and descended into a candidness that, in any other matter, Arthur had always appreciated. "Your Majesty, I am no fool, I think you will recall. I saw Merlin vanish before my eyes as did you."

"Of course you're no fool, Princess," said Arthur, his voice also falling into a more casual language. His eyes flashed to her and then resumed their examination of the moving faces around them.

"Then tell me what is happening. Where has Merlin gone?" Mithian's stance firmed and only her desire to avoid drawing attention prevented her from crossing her arms over her chest.

"He's simply retired."

"He vanished before my eyes," argued Mithian.

"He's retired magically," the king amended.

The princess fixed him with a glare that gave Arthur pause. After a long moment he sighed in defeat. "He'll turn up. Enjoy the banquet for now." And he left her with that. He tied the amulet to his belt, mostly hidden beneath the sumptuous satin of his cloak, and threw himself back into lively conversation with her father and his nobles at the head table. Mithian huffed, but schooled the expression from her face.

Arthur spent the rest of the evening in perfect form. He used the correct language, spoke to the right people, and held himself with the grace of a monarch. To a suspect degree, Mithian noticed. It was in this impeccable persona that she noticed his anxiety. His eyes would flicker about, as though still scanning the room for his absent manservant. His hand would occasionally stray to his belt, as though ensuring the gem was still there, and there was a subtle difference in the tone of his laughter- only noticeable to those who knew well his genuine laugh. But he did not retire early, speaking with Rodor until the last of the guests had retired. Mithian made a show of retiring to her room, but slid into an alcove just outside the banquet door. It was nearly an hour later that the two sovereigns finally left the hall and bid one another good night.

Rodor moved away immediately, walking with the deliberation of a man whose consumption of wine was conflicting a little with his need to maintain his grace toward his own chambers. Arthur, however, paused outside the doors, running his thumb over the amulet and casting his eyes over the hall. His pause was long enough to convince Mithian he was going to walk back in, but he simply sighed and headed toward his chambers.

Mithian stepped from her hiding place and frowned. What was troubling the king so? Clearly, Merlin had used magic to instantly excuse himself from the banquet. But why? It seemed a risk to perform magic in such a way. Particularly in front of a lord, however drunk he may have been. And why did the act concern Arthur so? Since she had met them, Mithian had always been aware of how in sync the two of them had been. They trusted one another so completely, and yet, Arthur had been thoroughly disquieted by Merlin's disappearance. And entirely unwilling to explain himself to her, which seemed odd behavior for a king who had just signed such a sensitive treaty. And what was the meaning of the feeling that raced down her spine at Merlin's performance? Almost as though something had flowed through her, sending shivers from her head to her feet.

She sighed and took the first steps away from the banquet hall, but her mind continued to spin. She knew it was necessary to make an appearance at her chambers, should the servants raise a fuss over her absence. She took one last glance at the servants in the hall as they bustled about, clearing off tables, collecting dishes, and cleaning the floor, before heading toward her chambers.

~ooOoo~

"Merlin?"

The voice was hushed, but unmistakable. Mithian stood straight and looked to the door of the banquet hall. The high full moon spilled through the tall windows, illuminating the figure of king Arthur. He had dressed down, in a simple red tunic and boots. The amulet glinted from its place on his belt as he took soft steps across the polished stone floors.

"Merlin! Where are you?" called Arthur again, allowing his voice a little more volume as he moved past the Princess.

"Arthur," said Mithian in greeting, stepping away from the alcove.

Arthur's entire body tensed and his warrior instincts sent a hand to grope for a sword that was not there. "Princess!" he cried, swinging around to look at her.

Mithian couldn't stop the small chuckle that escaped her. "I didn't mean to frighten you, My Lord."

Arthur recollected himself and stood straight. "You didn't frighten me. I was only startled," he insisted.

"Well, then I didn't mean to startle you," Mithian amended. Her hair had been let loose to lay in delicate waves down her back. Only the frills at the bottom of her night dress were visible beneath the embroidered silk robe she had tied around herself, and her feet were swathed in thin slippers. She knew it was hardly a state to be seen in by a visiting king, but she also couldn't quite bring herself to care. After all, he had seen her in a far less regal state- fleeing her own kingdom in traveling clothes. A long silence stretched between them, and Arthur held her gaze stubbornly. She got the distinct impression he was devoted to giving her even less information than he had at the feast. She asked anyway, "What are you doing here so late, My Lord?"

Arthur very much looked like he had not the patience to play the innocence game, but he spoke anyway. "I couldn't sleep, Princess. I'm only here for a stroll."

Mithian felt her annoyance bubbling. "You were looking for Merlin," she said boldly. Arthur pursed his lips and Mithian's irritation rose again. "My Lord... what is going on? I know how closely you and he have guarded his secret, and yet he used magic at the banquet. In front of a lord, no less. You are clearly disquieted by that, but you insist you are not. Why are you so keen to hide what is happening from an ally that just committed to joining a potential civil war in another kingdom?"

There was guilt in Arthur's eyes, and his gaze fell to the floor for a moment. But when he met her eyes again, they were firm and stubborn. "Nothing is wrong, My Lady."

The word 'liar' flew to her lips, but she swallowed it. A friend though he may be, Mithian was not going to fling that word at a king. She forced calm on her angered thoughts. "Arthur, you come to Nemeth, asking for a peace treaty. When you arrive, you spring upon us the secret that you wish to defy your council to reintroduce magic to the land. You ask us to back you, should you have to fight to retain your throne. Then, you present your servant- a man you admit has lied to you for years about his true nature. Then, during the feast, that servant vanishes, upsetting you, yet you insist that everything is fine. Then, I find you wandering around the banquet hall in the middle of the night." Arthur only stared. "We just signed a delicate treaty with you in the utmost confidence. I need to know that that confidence is not misplaced." A sliver of fear snaked its way into Arthur's eyes and she could see him struggle to drown it in stubbornness. She sighed and closed the distance between them to place a hand on his shoulder. "I do not mean to threaten, My Lord. I only ask that you understand how this looks."

Arthur's eyes softened and he let out a breath as though he had been holding it. He opened his mouth to speak.

"My King."

Arthur twirled on his heel to stare at the source of the voice, and Mithian's eyes followed. Merlin stood in front of the head table, hands folded at his back, and his empty, pupilless eyes aimed at the two royals. Arthur's eyes dashed to Mithian as she stepped past him, running her gaze over the black markings down his temples.

"Merlin...?" said Mithian.

"Princess," said Arthur, taking a step toward her back. She turned to look at him. "Best not." He motioned her back toward himself, but she planted her feet, fixing him with an expectant look. Arthur's eyes moved past her to look at the warlock. "Emrys, she means me no harm."

"Emrys?" repeated Mithian with a raised brow.

Emrys closed his eyes and gave the king a nod. "I know." When they opened, they appeared fixed on the Princess as she turned back to him and eyed him up and down as though his appearance held the explanation to all her questions.

Arthur took another step forward, unfastening the amulet from his belt. A crude knot had rejoined the frayed ends of the leather chord. There was something in his empty eyes... a softness that came over his mouth when he looked at Mithian. Was that... recognition? How was that possible?

" _Emrys does not know friend from foe as Merlin does. He knows only to protect you, Arthur."_

And it had seemed that Freya spoke the truth. Emrys had laid the king's own knights flat the first time he saw them. Emrys knew nothing of those Merlin called his friends. But then... he... it... knew of Morgana. And he knew of the existence of Merlin's friends, but felt nothing when hurting them. And yet... he had saved Percival from the bandit woman's blade.

His mind swam with questions and they seemed to weigh him down, for he did not approach the warlock just yet. "Emrys..." he motioned to the Princess, and a slight shifting of Merlin's eyes in their sockets was his only acknowledgment. "Do you know who this is?"

Emrys nodded, and returned his gaze to the Princess. " _Æ_ _lfsc_ _í_ _ene_."

Arthur took another quick step forward, planting one foot between the Princess and Emrys at the sound of the Old Tongue. But no spell accompanied it. He exchanged a look with Mithian, whose eyes were beginning to brim with irritation again.

"What is happening, Merlin? Arthur?" she demanded, propriety once again falling from her tone. She looked between the two, and stepped out from behind the protection of Arthur's shoulders. "Why do you call him Emrys? And what has happened to his eyes?"

Conflict played out in the king's eyes as he fought the words that threatened to spill out of his mouth.

"You have nothing to fear from me, _Æ_ _lfsc_ _í_ _ene_." said Emrys.

Mithian looked back to the suddenly unfamiliar warlock. "That word... you are calling _me_ that?"

Arthur seemed eager to shift the conversation. "Why do you call her that, Emrys?"

For the first time, struggle seemed to come over Emrys' face. His brows furrowed a little, and his lips pursed as though the answer were physically difficult to find. "It is what she is."

Arthur blinked and looked between the warlock and the princess. "What she is? What does that mean?"

"Arthur!" Mithian's voice was raised and there was a bit of pink on her cheeks as her anger seemed to peak.

The volume and look in her eyes struck the king and he deflated a little. Arthur wanted nothing more than to keep Emrys hidden away. He had proven to be something of what Arthur had always feared about magic. 'Emrys is proof that your father was right,' reasoned the side that still clung to the beliefs his father instilled in him from childhood. 'He will bring down all that you want to build.' Emrys was emotionless and ruthless, caring nothing for everything Merlin held dear. The voice of Uther Pendragon was at war with the belief Arthur held in his servant.

But here was Mithian, demanding answers. If he did not explain... try to make her understand... his own silence would be the thing that destroyed the future he sought, not the presence of Emrys.

The long pause in which the king contemplate these things seemed to have done little for Mithian's temper. She stood, arms crossed over her chest impatiently, and a piercing glare sent his way.

"My apologies, Princess," said Arthur with a nod of deference. "I did not wish to deceive."

"Your efforts have been wasted, then," snapped Mithian in a strangely soft tone.

Arthur felt the jab almost as though it had been physical. He met her eyes. "Merlin was... attacked some months ago." Mithian's eyes widened and she gave Merlin a once-over. "A group sought to..." Arthur struggled to find a concise way to explain the events of the past year. "...remove me from his protection by subduing his magic. But in a way, it backfired, and Merlin became stronger than ever. He had more magic. And far more than he could control. He nearly died keeping it in check." He held up the amulet and spared a glance for Emrys. The warlock seemed either unaware of Arthur's words, or unconcerned with what was being said, and the king found himself irritated that he didn't know which one. He looked back to Mithian. "This was given to him to control that magic. When he wears it, he is normal: Merlin as he has always been." He paused and craned his neck to look at Emrys, as though trying to convince him of the truth of his words. "And always will be." He looked back to the amulet dangling from the frayed leather chord. "But when it is removed, his magic takes over, and he becomes Emrys." He made a quick motion to the still man behind him.

Mithian took a long moment to examine the amulet, and a longer one to look Merlin over. She approached, getting closer to him than Arthur was comfortable with as she considered the black markings on his skin, and the emptiness of his eyes.

Arthur's entire body tensed with the desire to shove the amulet over Merlin's head, to erase Emrys from Merlin's face, but he restrained himself. Mithian's doubts threatened his treaty, and however much he longed to pretend Emrys didn't exist, he had to answer to them.

"I can't control Emrys, Princess," he blurted, surprising himself with his own honesty. "If I am being truthful," and he met Emrys' eyes, "I don't like him." The warlock seemed unconcerned with the admission, and it stirred Arthur's anger. "I thought it unwise to reveal that there was a part of this... immensely powerful sorcerer that I cannot control. It was wrong for me to keep it from you, and I am sorry." Once again, he bowed his head in deference to her back as Mithian took a step away from Merlin.

The princess' eyes were surprisingly soft when she looked at Arthur again. Sadness, pity, and just a little bit of fear swirled in her gaze. "So... he is not Merlin when he looks like this."

"No, but you need not fear him, Princess," assured Arthur quickly. "He exists only to protect me."

"But why?" The question was genuine and begged the king to settle her fears.

The king was almost certain his answer could not do that. "I have been trying to discover that myself." He returned his eyes to his servant, and looked him over, as though searching for the answer in the druidic runes on his temples. "Why did such a powerful warlock become a servant dedicated wholly to protecting the son of the man who would have killed him?" he muttered, his voice tinged with the frustration of an unanswered question asked far too many times.

Strangely enough, Mithian did seem somewhat relaxed by his answer. "Have you ever tried asking him?" she asked with a quick glance in Emrys' direction.

"Asking him why he exists?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at her.

Mithian shrugged. "I was more thinking along the lines of why he chose to protect you, but sure."

Arthur looked at Merlin, who continued to stare across the hall as though uninterested in their conversation. With another quick glance to Mithian, he said, "Emrys. Why are you here? Why do you protect me, the son of Uther who persecuted people like you?"

Emrys' gaze shifted slowly to the king. "There are no people like me, for I am not a 'person' as you would define. I am the magic of men."

Arthur ground his teeth at Emrys' blatant disregard for the question he most cared about. Mithian stepped forward. "But why protect him?"

Once again, Arthur marked the way his eyes and face softened as his gaze shifted to the princess. "Magic was taken from the realm of men. Those with magic were hunted and slain. My King can bring magic back to them."

Arthur's mind was suddenly blank and he spoke the thoughts as they sluggishly wove their way into his mind. "So... you protect me because I am to serve a purpose of yours?" Something in the pit of his stomach sank and his throat tightened. "Am I just a tool, and you here to ensure I do my job correctly?"

Emrys looked at him, and the softness was gone. There were only hard lines in his face. "Did you think I loved you?"

Anything Arthur was about to say was chased back down his throat, and he took a step back. His knuckles turned white as his hand clenched around the leather chord. His heartbeat quickened with the anger and hurt that welled in his gut.

Emrys shook his head. "Merlin loves you more than he loves his own life. He protects you for love. I serve a purpose so that you may serve yours."

Arthur couldn't formulate a response, and stared blankly at the warlock. The gap between Emrys and Merlin widened. He wrung the amulet's chord in his hand, holding it close to him as though Merlin himself were contained within.

"Emrys..." Mithian ventured quietly. He voice was quiet, and she glanced to and from the king as she spoke, desperate to diffuse the tension that had settled into his body. "Why did you disappear? You vanished when the amulet was removed."

"I was not needed, _Æ_ _lfsc_ _í_ _ene_. My King was in no danger," he answered.

"Then why weren't you in my chambers afterwards? Why stay here?" demanded Arthur lowly, refusing to meet Emrys' gaze.

Once again, Emrys seemed to determinedly seek an answer that did not come easily. After several breaths and a strange fluttering of the warlock's eyelids, he shook his head. "I am here. He did not wish to leave."

Silence followed as Arthur attempted to decipher the answer. "Who didn't wish to leave?"

Emrys swallowed, a more human act than any he had ever seen the... creature... produce. "Merlin." He bowed his head to Arthur- that simple silent act of deference and submission that seemed to make Arthur more ill-tempered each time he saw it. This mighty sorcerer placing himself before the king, like a dog awaiting a pat on the head for a job well done. As though in some subtle way, he felt content in knowing that his duty was fulfilled and he could leave the rest to Merlin. Arthur grit his teeth and shoved the chord around the warlock's neck.

The blast of light wind hit and Merlin was on his knees gulping air. Mithian dropped to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Merlin, are you alright?"

The servant's eyes landed on the silk robe. They followed it up to the princess' face and he recoiled like he had been burned. He twisted away from her and landed clumsily on his butt. "Princess!" He did his best to collect himself and bowed his head, but his limbs seemed loathe to cooperate and he wobbled even on his knees.

Mithian looked him over. She ran her eyes along the sides of his face and spent a few moments staring straight into his blue eyes as though to ensure they did not simply vanish again.

"What happened? Where is everyone? Arthur!" He straightened a little. "Lord Amwren! He-!"

Arthur pointed and the servant looked down to see the blue gem dangling in front of his chest. He looked around, and a hand slowly came up to cover his mouth as his eyes found Mithian again.

"You don't remember?" asked Mithian. Merlin faintly shook his head and looked to Arthur. He didn't have to voice the question in his eyes. Arthur just nodded.

Merlin visibly collected himself, straightened and bowed his head. "My apologies, Princess Mithian. It was not our intention for you to have to deal with Emrys."

Mithian looked to Arthur and stood. "No, I am glad to have met him." She squared her shoulders and her chin raised, assuming the proper posture of a royal. "You deceived me- and my father- about the strength of your warlock, My Lord. Both you and your servant sought to keep important information from us." She spared a glance for Merlin as he slowly got to his feet. His shoulders hunched, and his body language crumpled in on itself. Arthur stood rigid, hands folded neatly behind his back, like a man ready to take a beating he could not avoid. "But..." and she sighed, her posture relaxing and a weak smile curving her mouth. "In this situation, I am not sure I would have done differently. You fear Emrys... you both do. You desire change in your kingdom Arthur, but we are now deep in matters that have not been touched in many years. We must realize that going forward we will be dealing with issues that we do not understand. This is one of them. If Emrys is as powerful as you say... well I am only glad he is not against us."

Merlin smiled a little, but schooled his expression solemn at a look from Arthur. The king bowed his head. "You are gracious, My Lady. In you, our faith is well-placed. We will speak of Emrys to your father in the morning."

Mithian smiled. "Good." She seemed to spot the discomfort that worked its way quickly back into Merlin's posture. "I will not ask that you undergo the change again, Merlin. My father need only hear of the situation." Merlin nodded and gave a grateful smile. Mithian's face was solemn when she looked at the king. "But Arthur... be cautious when you seek your treaty with Caerleon. Queen Annis can be a powerful ally, but I fear that she will not be as forgiving as I if you deceive her."

"Of course princess." Arthur exchanged a look with Merlin. "My fear got the better of me. I hope you can forgive me."

Mithian waved her hand. "All is well, Arthur. Now, let us to bed." She gave a healthy yawn. "It is far later than I anticipated being up."

The men nodded and followed the princess as she made her way toward the door. About halfway there, she abruptly stopped and turned to face the warlock. "Merlin, the strange word that Emrys used... do you know what that is about?"

Merlin blinked. "Strange word?"

Arthur nodded. "It sounded like the Old Tongue."

"Old Tongue?" repeated Mithian, her eyebrows up in expectation.

"The language of spells. But, it is a language in and of itself. I use it occasionally. Why, what did he say?" Merlin shrugged.

"Ælfsee... seeanna?" Arthur tried to force his mouth around the foreign sounds.

" _Æ_ _lfsc_ _í_ _ene_?" Merlin guessed.

Mithian pointed and nodded. "That's it. What does it mean?"

"Radiant beauty," said Merlin. "Why? Did he use it for a spell?"

Arthur stared at Merlin for a moment, and then met Mithian's large round eyes. Her cheeks flushed and she looked like she swallowed a chuckle. Finally the king shook his head. "No, not a spell. Don't worry about it. Just something... random that he said." Mithian turned and hurried toward the door.

Merlin raised an eyebrow as the princess retreated and looked askance at Arthur. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again at the king's glare.

The next morning came quickly. The moment that the king and his warlock lay in their respective beds was only a few hours from the rising of the sun. As they sluggishly began to ready themselves to break their fast in the main hall, they noticed a bit of hide that had been slid under the door. Inside was a masterfully braided silver chain and a letter.

 _Lord Amwren breached decorum last night in a most unforgivable way. Please accept this as replacement for the leather chord he broke._

 _Keep that amulet close._

 _-M_

* * *

I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts on Emrys, and your theories on what Freya was talking about? What does Emrys mean? See you soon, hopefully! LOL


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